


Brrrrrrrrat!

by theproletariatdontdeservecake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 'Murica, Gen, Guns, although I really should finish the stories I've already started, bang bang - Freeform, but guns would honestly solve most of their problems, except not really because they're in Britain, guns are cool, i love the HP series, i should start a series of fics, it's people who suck., not a political post, pew pew, which explains why Harry needs a sketchy dealer to buy a gun, you can't just buy 'em over the counter there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 22:38:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16669696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theproletariatdontdeservecake/pseuds/theproletariatdontdeservecake
Summary: Harry gets a gun because, why not? Sure, it's got limited ammunition, but even a semi-automatic spits the equivalent of three Avada-Kedavras-per-second.Plus there's no counterspell fast enough for a speeding bullet.





	Brrrrrrrrat!

_ Brrrrrrrrat! _

Bullets sprayed all over the place and Harry felt the jolt in his arm as the gun's recoil forced his aim off target.

The can he'd been shooting at stood untouched on a tree stump, several paces away.

"Got to fire in controlled bursts if you want to actually hit something, mate," the old wizard said.

Harry didn't trust the man. He'd found the old wizard in a dilapidated shop on the seedier end of Knockturn Alley, fitting his wand onto a scoped rifle (" _you_ try landing an Avada Kedavra at a thousand yards _"_  he'd said), and dressed like one of the survivalists on the American shows Dudley had spent an entire summer watching, back when Harry still lived with the Dursleys.

Still, he'd come with a recommendation from Arthur Weasley, whose love for all things muggle was so great that, when Harry mentioned in passing one dinner that he was looking to buy a gun, he was able to point Harry to someone who’d not only be able to acquire one, but who’d also be able to show him how to use it.

_Brrat!_

It was proving more difficult than expected.

Harry locked his arm and focused on the target, then pulled the trigger twice in quick succession.

_Brrat! Brrat!_

The can didn't move but Harry saw splinters kick up around it as he fired. He could even see where a bullet had lodged itself at the base of the stump.

"Not bad, but still not good," the old man said, hooking his thumbs into the orange vest he was wearing over his robes. "Try again. And this time, squeeze the trigger instead of pulling it."

"Is there a reason I'm practicing on something so small?" Harry complained. "I wanted this to use on Death Eaters, not beans."

The wizard raised a bushy eyebrow. "Death eaters are a bigger target but they won't be standing still. And if you can't even hit a standing target, how do you expect to hit one that's apparating all over the place?"

He had a point.

Harry adjusted his glasses and lined up his target, focusing only on the “i” that dotted the faded “Heinz” on the label, took a breath, and squeezed.

_Brrat!_

The can flew into the air with a low, satisfying _thunk_.

"Yes!" Harry shouted, pumping his fists.

_Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrat!_

The old wizard dove to the ground as Harry emptied a clip into the air.

Harry stood with a horrified look on his face, realizing that in the excitement of his celebration, he'd accidentally squeezed the trigger.

"OI WHAT'S THAT BLOODY RACKET! THE BABY IS SLEEPING!"

Ron stormed out of the house, red in the face. Hermione followed close behind with her wand out and a look of concern on her face.

"Sorry!" Harry said sheepishly.

Then his face brightened. "Ron, Hermione, I hit it!"

"Hit what?!" Ron demanded.

"The can, Ron." Harry beamed, waving the Uzi. "With this!"

“Really, Harry, a gun?” Hermione asked in a disapproving tone as she eyed the piece in Harry’s hand.

Ron followed her gaze and then looked to Harry, confused. "Wots that now?"

“A muggle weapon,” Hermione answered, shaking her head.

The old wizard picked himself up, dusted himself off, and smiled at Ron's question.

"Mate," he said, flashing a grin that was missing several teeth. "They're the best."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Life has a frustrating way of getting in the way of my hobbies so, when I found myself with time to write for the first time in months, I turned off my distractions and sat down, fully intending to get back to the dozens of stories I've set aside for "later." 
> 
> I told myself I was finally going to finish that short story where Elsa acts more like a powerful weather witch and less like a little bitch, continue the gritty, ridiculous Snow-White fic that begins and ends with "Heigh-ho, motherfucker," and then flesh out more of the MTG story I've been working on for nearly a year. (Is it just me or does it get more difficult to stop being lazy when you've figured out all the plot points and basically know how it's going to pan out?)
> 
> Of course, I achieved none of that. Instead, I got distracted, lit a fat one, and then spent far too long daydreaming about Harry and Co. fighting off death eaters with pistols (Ron holds his Tec-9 sideways and Hermione, who was the only one to actually read the manual, is not amused). 
> 
> The idea tickled me enough that I wrote it into a whole story (chapterS. Plural!) that I could have sworn I typed into my laptop.
> 
> Perhaps I didn't save it all because when I woke up in the morning, all I had was the short story you see above. 
> 
> I still like it enough to post it, though. Hope you guys like it.


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